Even though my dad is the oldest of his siblings, four of his sisters are already grandparents. His sisters married young and started their families more or less immediately Their children didn't waste any time in adding to the Earth's overpopulation problem, either. Eight of my cousins on my dad's side, most of them female, already have one or more children.

My grandmother says that her grandchildren have been highly creative in naming their children. She says that because the names they have chosen weren't, for the most part, common or even invented yet when she named her children, nor were they even in vogue when her children were naming their own offspring. (An interesting sidebar to this is that my grandmother's youngest daughter, who is my aunt Christelle, has an almost-one-year-old child and is expecting her second. With the large families common to Mormons, it's not highly unusual to be anticipating grandchildren and grand-grandchildren simultaneously.) If you're familiar with my married cousins' peer groups, however, you probably recognize that the names they've chosen are roughly as cliche as were Lisa and Michael, Jennifer and Jason, Jessica and Christopher, or Emily and Jacob in their respective heights of popularity, particularly when regional trends are considered.

One thing I've noticed is that the names of many of my little first-cousins-one-removed rhyme with one another. I'll give you examples. Four of my cousins' kids are named Kayden, Jayden, Aiden, and Brayden.
Abother four are named Chase, Jace, Case, and Trace. Another five are named Riley, Brileigh, Kylee, Miley, and Skyleigh. The names rhyming with one another do not necessarily belong to children from the same immediate family. Kayden and Case are siblings, as are Trace and Skyleigh.

My cousins have four additional children whose names are not part of the rhyme schemes. James Orson;s name comes from God knows where. Isabella's mother is a Twilight fan Spencer Gordon's parents wished to acknowledge church history. Ethan's parents just liked the name.

My grandmother thinks her grandchildren are highly creative, though many of them haven't had an original thought in their entire lives. Contrast that with my Aunt Christelle, who named her baby Blitzen Manx. I have no desire to know from where that one came.

I really should be asleep, as I need to be on campus in just over six hours, but sleep is an elusive commodity that isn't always forthcoming when it is most needed. I'm tired of staring at my ceiling waiting to grow tired, and there's nothing I really want to watch on TV right now. I went downstairs to see if anything in the kitchen looked vaguely tempting, but nothing did the trick for me. I briefly considered the possibility of helping myself to a Guinness, but that didn't tempt me, either. Does that mean I'm not a bona fide alcoholic?

I attended a pre-voir dire hearing today. Nothing of extreme consequence was ruled upon or announced, although the judge did allow my boss, a public defender, to submit a written questionnaire to the jury pool in order to move things along expeditiously and to minimize invasive questioning of jurors. My boss's opposing counsel proposed that both sides stipulate to limiting peremptory challenges to six for each side. My boss refused to stipulate to such because to do so would not be in the best interests of her client. The judge agreed with her. It didn't matter tremendously that the judge agreed with her, as even had he disagreed, he could not have ruled to reduce the number of peremptory challenges from the usual ten without her stipulation, but it's almost always a good omen when a judge agrees with everything a lawyer says.

I was not impressed with the Assistant District Attorney. He seemed to me to have a greater degree of fondness for himself and confidence in his legal skills than is either customary or becoming. Perhaps his self-confidence is warranted, though I will be surprised if he reveals such to be the case. He comes across as arrogant. I suppose if he is successful in seating a jury of twelve pompous jerks, they might possibly find him relatable, although I'm doubtful even of that. Pompous jerks often seem to have little more tolerance for their own kind than do the rest of us.

Even though it's highly unlikely that the arrogant attorney will stumble across this blog, and even less likely that he would recognize himself should he stumble upon it, as arrogant @$$holes seldom possess sufficient self-awareness to recognize themselves even with the most precise and apropos of descriptions, I will offer some sort of disclaimer. The opinions I've expressed are mine and mine alone. I did not discuss the topic with my employer. Even had I discussed the topic with my employer, it's unlikely her sentiments would have echoed my own, as she genuinely likes pompous jerks. Furthermore, she would not have concurred that the opposing counsel is a pompous jerk even if she agreed with me that he is, which she would never have done.

Good night and happy The Day Before Thanksgiving Day.

P.S. I mis-typed the letters of my first name in the title of this post. What resulted was a homophone for sexless. Considering the Freudian school of thought that there are no real accidents, my miscue was highly profound.

Greetings! I have nothing of intelligence to share, which is not exactly a significant deviation from the norm, but I'm checking in just the same. I will be taking a few days off from my normal university grind to help a friend with some legal work. I cannot give many details at this time except to say that it is a domestic battery case, and I am providing slave labor for the public defender's office. The pre-voir dire conference will be held tomorrow.

I attended classes today, and I will also make an appearance on Wednesday. Then it's two days off for Thanksgiving. I'll show up again on the following Monday, after which I'll be tied up with the trial for maybe three days. I'm glad my professors for this quarter are not anal half-wits, as were some of my previous professors.

I haven't yet come down from a post-election high. I wish I had been Megyn Kelly for Halloween instead of having reprised my Trailer Trash Barbie costume, although, as an American who is of one-half Irish descent, I find the spelling of her first name (Megyn Kelly's, not Trailer Trash Barbie's) positively reprehensible. Some would say the blame for the spelling of her name belongs to her parents and not to her, but I call poppycock on that. TV and radio personalities change their names, the spellings of their names, their birthdates, their noses, and probably even their social security numbers quite routinely. For that matter, Ms. Kelly probably changed the spelling of her name in the first place from the more standard and authentic Megan (even Meghan would have been bearable) to Megyn. Megyn makes me think of ob-gyn, which is something I would just as soon not think about. *

Even though it's getting a little late in the day to make such changes, I'm considering changing my undergraduate major. Does one need to be a Republican to major in "math you do to make yourself feel better as a Republican"?

* For that matter, who knows if she even started out with the name Megan, spelling notwithstanding?

Rebecca as had surgery and is home from the hospital. She was able to vote in the presidential election. I know how much I look forward to being able to vote for the first time. It would have been most sad and unfortuitous if illness had forced her to relinquish that right this year.

Please join me in praying for and/or sending out positive thoughts on behalf of my good friend Rebecca, who is once again in her second home, which is the Philadelphia Children's Hospital. It's been a few days since I've heard from here, so I'm starting to be concerned.

Rebecca, if you can hear me, I'm praying and sending good thoughts your way! Hang in there!

Some anonymous blogger renamed Mitt Romney's five sons: Mitt Jr., Mittens, Oven Mitt, Mitthew, and and Glove. Those names are at least as good as their actual names, whatever they might be. Seriously, who in the world names his kid something like Tagg? Or, for that matter, Mitt?

please join me in praying or sending positive thoughts or lighting a candle or reciting an ode to the West Wind that we don't find out by this time tomorrow that the five little Romneys have become the first offspring-elect.

Well, I recently deviated from my personal creed, which is that I claim the privilege of writing according to the dictates of my own conscience and allow all [people] the same privilege: let them write how, where, or what they may.* In my previous posting to this blog, well, I disparaged the blatant disregard for conventions of standard written English in many Mormon Mommy blogs. http://alexisar.blogspot.com/2012/11/mormon-mommy-blogs.html Well, I offer no apologies for the content of that particular post, and stand by my original observation, which is that many Mormon Mommies, as evidenced by their blog postings, lack proficiency in the area of basic writing skills. Well, this comes as less than a news flash to most of my readers.

Why, then, am I wasting time and space to address the topic? Well, I'm heading in this direction simply to share that I dislike the use of the word well as a placeholder, for lack of a better term.

Are more compelling problems plaguing the world at this very moment? Well, yes. Do I care? Well, no. Well, actually, I do care, but since I can't do much about the more serious and complex issues facing our nation and planet, I choose instead to focus upon the misuse, abuse, and overuse of the word well.

Well, as a general rule, I dislike self-proclaimed spelling, grammar, and punctuation police as much as anyone else does. After reading several Mormon Mommy blogs, however, I felt led -- perhaps even inspired -- to share.

* blatant plagiarism of the writings of Joseph Smith, Junior, who probably plagiarized his version every bit as blatantly as did I

Because I have apparent masochistic tendencies, I sometimes click on the "next blog" button on the Blogspot bar. I don't know if what I get when I click on the button is representative of what's truly out there in Blogspot's corner of the blogosphere, or if I'm just lucky, but at least once out of every four times that I click, I land on a Mormon Mommy blog.

I have nothing against Mormons. Maybe I do, actually, but I don't hate all of them, especially since I am a "sort of" Mormon. I was blessed in the LDS church, and, through a statistical and record-keeping anomaly, I was baptized by proxy for numerous dead people in a Mormon temple even though I was never baptized for myself outside of the temple, which is supposed to happen before a person is allowed to undertake the same ordinance on behalf of others. (Similarly, my brother, who was not baptized, either, holds the Aaronic Priesthood of the LDS church. We Rousseaus are apparently incredibly talented at being Mormons to the degree that we're allowed to skip necessary steps, pass Go, and collect our two hundred dollar stipends without troubling ourselves with Chance, Community Chest, or any of the four railroads. When someone's grandfather is among The Lord's Annointed, sometimes others make silly assumptions about pesky little matters such as baptism.)

Getting back to the subject at hand, while I may take many cheap shots at Mormons and Mormonism, many people whom I love or about whom I care are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Some of them are mothers. Paradoxically, though, they're not Mormon Mommies. Merely being both a Mormon and a mother (or even a mommy, if one prefers) does not make a person a Mormon Mommy. Being a Mormon Mommy involves more than practicing a religion and begetting children. "Mormon Mommies" are far more special than that.

A Mormon Mommy gives her children names such as Kennedie, Shelayna, Gracie Claire, or Sariah. Sometimes she chooses to highlight her child's specialness by creating a one-of-a-kind designer name such as Emmalia or Deseret, and she becomes most irate if anyone, upon seeing the name in print, mispronounces the first name /em-muh-LEE-uh/ or the second as /DES-ur-et/. (They're pronounced /em-MAHL-lee-uh/ and 'des-ur-RAY/, idiots.)

She spends many of her waking hours on Pinterest, creating projects she learned about on Pinterest, photographing her Pinterestic creations, and publishing her fantastic Pinterest results there and elsewhere. She can blog for weeks about hairstyles she learned about on Pinterest. Her children's birthday parties (the themes and implementation procedures of which usually sprung from Pinterest) are documented more exhaustively than was the birth of Jesus.

One may reach the conclusion that I have some sort of issue with Pinterest, which is not entirely accurate. While I have no desire to create adorable Christmas card holders from recycled Tampax boxes, or, for that matter, to create anything through any process that involves the use of a glue gun, I'm open-minded enough not to deny others that privilege; I just don't want to hear about it. What happens on Pinterest should remain on Pinterest. If I'm sitting on a chair that was slip-covered with individual Starburst wrappers that were melted with a steaming iron onto discarded hospital gowns, please leave me to wallow in my ignorance as to the process that created this one-of-a-kind work of art on which I'm sitting. If the chair is too precious for me to sit on, just say so, but don't torture me with cumbersome stories about the preciousness of the chair. I don't want to read about it on Blogspot, either. If anyone truly wants to know about all the bizarre hygiene products be created in one's own kitchen using only cornstarch, baking soda, candle wax, and Herbal Essence Shampoo, the person probably knows how to find Pinterest. the rest of the world would appreciate being spared the gory details.

Standard written English and A Mormon Mommy are not usually best friends, or even casual acquaintances. A Mormon Mommy connects independent clauses with commas. ("We are laughing, we are friends.") The distinction between adjectives and adverbs is not a matter to which she gives much thought. Likewise, if subject/verb agreement happens, fine; if it fails to happen, that, too, is fine. Pronoun/antecedent compatibility? What's that? She uses apostrophes liberally, though not necessarily in any way of which David Foster Wallace or any other grammar Nazi would approve. (The Anderson's had BLAST'S at Alicias' and at Great-Grandmas "60th" birthday bash's.) Blogspot's spelling correction feature keeps her blog from containing even more spelling errors than a person would find in an average posting of this blog (I admit to being a notoriously poor typist who doesn't take the time that I should to edit), but provides more than enough homophonic errors to make up for the lack of outright spelling miscues. ("My great-great-grandfather still serves on the steak high counsel and sings base in the choir. He and my great-great-grandmother receive so many complements about they're many descendence whenever there entire family is together, like at my cousins bridle shower.") Exclamation points are a Mormon Mommy's best friend, and she hearts them!!!!! (A Mormon Mommy does not merely love people, places, things, or ideas. She hearts them!

I most definitely do not hold disdain for LDS mothers as a whole. I'm related to a great many of them, some of with whom I'm even on speaking terms. Two ladies (one a relative and the other not) with whom I have close relationships are both practicing Latter-Day Saints and mothers. One works full-time as an ENT, otherwise known as an otolaryngologist, and, along with her husband, who is a gastroenterologist, looks after her two children. The other one, who has six children, is a non-practicing dental hygienist. though she likes to boast that not one of her six children has ever had a cavity. In what little spare time she has, she handles accounting for family operated enterprises. Both women are intelligent, attractive, articulate, nice, and funny. To the best of my knowledge, neither woman blogs, but if either one did, it wouldn't be a Mormon Mommy blog. They would have more intelligent messages to share than how to conserve energy by baking cheesecake atop the engine of a just-parked SUV (that gets a whopping eleven miles to the gallon) after she has driven it around the neighborhood for thirty-seven minutes for the sole purpose of heating the engine sufficiently to back the cheesecake. How's that for conservation of natural resources? Natural resources do not actually need to conserved, nor does the concept of overpopulation need to be considered, according to Mormon Mommies, because The Savior will return soon enough, ushering in The Millenium and rendering as moot any discussion of the Earth's resources.

I shared my distaste for Mormon Mommy blogs with my dad, who said, "If you don't like 'em, don't read 'em." I could follow his advice, but it's not that simple. Mormon Mommy blogs are the proverbial train wreck from which i cannot turn away. I also, on the other hand, reserve the first amendment-supported right to criticize what I find worthy of criticism. If anything is worthy of criticism, it's the average Mormon Mommy blog.

About Me

I'm nearly through my final year of college. I'm a biochemistry major with add-on majors in piano performance and violin performance. I have a minor in English.
Next year I'll move on to bigger though not necessarily better things.